teacups for teaser tuesdays


Welcome to another Tuesday celebrating bookish events, from Tuesday/First Chapter/Intros, hosted by Bibliophile by the Sea; and Teaser Tuesdays hosted by Should Be Reading.

Today’s featured read is one I won from Gilion, at Rose City Reads. The book, Cleans Up Nicely, by Linda Dahl, is the story of the hard-edged decadent art scene in the 1970s.




Intro:  Her destination, that summer of 1977, is a luxury apartment building, upper Fifth Avenue, a slice of New York life completely alien to her.  After the doorman confirms she’s expected and nods her toward the elevators, Erica crosses a sumptuous lobby tastefully decorated with white leather couches and stainless steel tables covered with lavish flower arrangements.  She is shaking.  She awkwardly recites the all-purpose, three-line mantra that Addie McC. has assured her will always help get her through any situation.  In the paneled elevator, she rides to the floor below the penthouse, where Addie McC. ushers her into an apartment with yet more expanses of white; it feels like entering a thirties movie set—there’s even a French bulldog to go with the expensive view of Central Park.


Teaser:  Leaving his building stoned only on caffeine, Erica stumbled and reeled as if she were drunk.  She caught a bus, transferred to another, sat with her eyes tightly shut and willed herself not to think of him.  And to her surprise, she was successful.  (p. 125)


Amazon Blurb:  When twenty-something artist Erica Mason moves from laid-back Mexico to Manhattan in the mid-1970s, she finds a hard-edged, decadent, and radically evolving art scene.

Peppered with characters who could only come from the latter days of the turn-on-and-drop-out ’60s in then-crumbling New York (a spaced-out drummer who’s completely given up on using or making money, a radical feminist who glues animal furs to her paintings of vaginas, and icons in the making like Patti Smith), Erica’s New York is fast-moving, funny, and heartrending just like the city itself. Ultimately, her rite of passage is not only a love affair with art, men, alcohol, drugs, and music in the swirl that was the downtown scene in a radically evolving era in New York, but also a resurrection from addiction and self-delusion.

More than the study of a celebrated period of artistic expression, Cleans Up Nicely is the story of one gifted young woman’s path from self-destruction to a hard-won self-knowledge that opens up a whole new world for her and helps her claim the self-respect that has long eluded her.


I am eagerly anticipating plunging into this book, a tale that spotlights a long-ago time that means youth for some of us.  What do you think of the opening?  Would you keep reading?



16162841From the beginning, their relationship had an imbalance built into it by the very double standard that often defined relationships in those times. It was the 1970s and they were in college when they began, and even though Alice was feeling the thrill of realizing her own dreams, the marriage between her and George was not to be an equal one.

He expected her to give up on her career aspirations, since he could provide financial support for them. None of her protests changed anything. She could have fought, you might say. Or demanded her due. But George was one of those men that women loved. Alice didn’t feel she could keep him unless she gave in.

Thus begins the tale of these two. Emancipating Alice takes the reader from these beginnings and the inequity of their relationship and leads us through the challenges of child rearing—mostly for Alice, since George’s presence was as the fun-loving dad—and into the later years when something from the past rises up and changes the dynamic between them.

In the first chapter, we see that George has died and that Alice, at the market, seems to have some kind of prescience about his demise. What we learn slowly and gradually is how the entrapment of one partner by the other can begin gradually until it is firmly entrenched, and that only a drastic action can sever the ropes that bind them together.

Why does George have numerous secret files? How is Alice able to finally take back her power? And what has eaten away at Alice’s relationship with her daughter Elaine until the two are like cold strangers? What will Alice do after the funeral to finally emancipate herself?

Divided into sections, we first see the story from Alice’s perspective, followed by George’s viewpoint. Otherwise, I might have simply detested George, whom we see in a somewhat distorted version in the beginning. But George’s point of view is also skewed, with the justifications for his behavior on full display.

Like most marriages, there are definitely two sides to the story…and sometimes more than two. The offspring of a couple add another dimension to the family dynamic and change how events will unfold.

A delightful and captivating read, this story was enjoyable. There were some punctuation and grammatical issues that distracted me at times, but the novel’s depth and layers, as well as my curiosity, kept me reading. Four stars.



They met in 1960s Pasadena, CA, at a time when everything was in flux. The cultural revolution was about to change the lives of American women, and young women coming-of-age during those years were caught between the repression of old and the revolution ahead. The lines were blurred and the rules were unclear.

But Rebecca Madden and Alex Carrington hadn’t yet reached the point of being able to articulate how everything was changing around them, nor were they aware enough at that point–in their early teens–to even know anything other than that they didn’t want to become their mothers.

Autobiography of Us: A Novel is narrated by Rebecca, who tells the story as if she is addressing someone not in the scenes: one of her offspring, perhaps. We don’t find out who she is narrating the story to until the very last chapters.

The friendship between Rebecca and Alex seemed out of balance from Day One. Alex took control, and because of her recklessness, her brashness, not to mention her life of privilege, she seemed to exert an undue influence on Rebecca. Lest one see Rebecca as the victim, however, she did tend to be complicit in this lopsided arrangement. I sensed that Rebecca needed Alex desperately–to help her move beyond her isolated existence. Alex also needed to have someone admire and look up to her–Rebecca’s role.

During their college years, the friendship continues, but new layers and expectations change the dynamic between them. Therefore, it is not that surprising that something happens during their senior year at a wedding between some friends. A betrayal that changes everything.

Was Alex complicit in these events? Did she somehow manipulate the situation? Afterwards, how was Rebecca affected by it all, and what lasting consequences changed her life from then on? And will the breach between Rebecca and Alex remain, or will they find a way to mend it?

While at times I really despised Alex and her manipulations, I also could see the vulnerabilities behind her tough facade. And Rebecca’s own inability to verbalize her needs and her tendency to block out reality was frustrating.

In the end, as the two women once again seemingly connect, a shocking scene leads to unexpected and disturbing life-changing events. These events, like the two women, seemed to symbolize the societal changes of the times, with each of them representing one-half of a dichotomy: women on the verge of revolution. Five stars.


Q & A with the Author:

A Conversation with Aria Beth Sloss about
—from Autobiography of Us

A Conversation with Aria Beth Sloss about
—from Autobiography of Us
1. In a recent interview about the novel with Publishers Weekly, you mention that the book is about a
group of women “caught between two eras.” What interested you about this group of women? How did
you come to write about them?
At a certain age I became aware that my mother was older than my friends’ mothers (I’m the youngest of three by six and nine years). Because of a margin of no more than a few years, everything about her experience as a young woman differed from theirs. She didn’t protest Vietnam; she didn’t go to Woodstock: in short, she didn’t match the vision of American youth during the 1960’s I’d pieced together from my friends’ parents’ photographs and stories. As I got older, I became fascinated by the idea that there was an entire pocket of women history had passed over. My mother’s generation was born late enough to glimpse opportunities for women beyond marriage and motherhood, but they were also, cruelly, born too early to benefit from second wave feminism and the changes that swept the country in the late 1960’s on into the 1970’s. By the time leaders like Gloria Steinem and Germaine Greer appeared on the horizon (not to mention NOW and the Equal Rights Amendment), it was too late: my mother and her friends were married with children, settled into lives that turned out to look very much like their own mothers’ lives. So much changed over the course of that one little decade. All it took was graduating college a few years earlier, and the world into which you entered was a very
different one.
2. How did the story for your book originate? You’ve mentioned that you used your mother’s life as inspiration—how personal was the endeavor of writing this book? Did you learn anything about your
mother in the process?
Autobiography originally grew out of that same curiosity about my mother, who was raised in Pasadena during roughly the same time frame as the book’s main characters. Though I grew up in Boston, my family flew to California every year to spend time with my maternal grandparents, so from a very young age I knew Pasadena as the place where my mother had grown up. I think it must come as a shock to all children, that moment when you realize your parents were once young. Suddenly, they’re people. With that peoplehood comes a past. I could say something nobler drove me, but the truth is that I started this book – a book which explores women coming of age during the era in which my mother came of age – out of sheer frustration with what I perceived as the limitations facing the young women of my own era. In many ways, Autobiography is less about my mother than it is about me.
3. You capture amazingly vivid details of the time and essence of 1960s Pasadena, California including:  how people dressed, what they ate, how they interacted socially, their worries and joys, the highlights in the news, and the social practices. What kind of research did you do for AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF US?  Did anything surprise you?
I used two types of research while writing the book. One involved looking up news headlines and double checking dates, making sure I had all the facts down right – what time did the sun set in May of 1962? Was I remembering the correct kind of palm tree for that area of Southern California? The other kind of research relied on sheer imagination. It’s always important to get the facts straight: as a fiction writer, you’re building a dream, and that dream needs to progress without any logistical snags, or you risk the reader getting nudged awake. But the crucial truths in story-telling are emotional. And to my way of thinking, a lot less changes from decade to decade in terms of what people want and regret than we’d like to think. It’s made me happy to hear women of that era say that the struggles the main characters face in the book ring true, but, sadly, it hasn’t surprised me.
4. This story is ultimately about a friendship between two women who have grown up together. Did you rely on any of your own experiences with girlfriends to articulate the ins and outs of their relationship?

I tend to deliberately avoid using specifics from my day-to-day in my writing: I find the hard facts of my own life distracting when I’m trying to create a world with its own truths, its own peculiar climate. That said, Rebecca and Alex’s relationship is undoubtedly a mish-mash of dozens of different friendships I’ve witnessed and experienced, particularly during adolescence. There’s a fluidity to teenage girls and their sense of identity that makes those intense friendships so many women have during those years possible. Over time, that intimacy is generally (and quite naturally) replaced by romantic relationships. It occurred to me as I worked on Autobiography that it would have to be both an extraordinary friendship as well as an extraordinary set of circumstances to break that natural progression. There was so much about these two women and their lives that seemed to me to create the perfect storm of disappointment and desire, exactly the kind that might allow a relationship like theirs to continue to carry so much weight. In the end, I wasn’t surprised to find myself writing about a friendship that looked a lot more like love.
5. How did you first become interested in writing?
Like most writers, I spent my childhood buried in books. I think of those years now as the seed that would eventually appear above ground as this, my life as a writer. I never consciously considered writing books of my own; in fact, I spent the first twenty-odd years of my life training to be a musician. I suppose what I was searching for all those years was a way to communicate – I just had the medium wrong. When, in my mid-twenties, I realized I didn’t have the talent to achieve what I wanted to through music, I went back to my childhood love. I had the wild idea I might be able to speak through words the way I couldn’t through music.  Luckily, it was the first of many endings that turned out to be a beginning.


Filled with themes of struggle, loss, and triumph, Rain portrays a family through the decades. From the 1960s to the mid-2000s, this journey of one family living in rural Australia is a testament to survival in the face of extremes.

A fire in the mill owned by the Wallin family is only the beginning of what seems like a trail of grief. The theme of rain peppers the pages, too; not just the seasonal rains that bring devastation but the symbolic rain of grief and loss.

But the rains can also remind us of other things, as in this excerpt:






(Carla, the third generation daughter is contemplating the rain). “I am waiting for the rain to pass so I can hike again through the bush—I go there in search of my guide. There is something about the rain. I have always found it comforting. It makes me feel warm even when it is cold. I love the way it smells, especially the way the bush smells after the rain. I love the way it tastes and I love the way it feels on my skin. Rain is life—everything grows from it….”

When I chose this family saga, I expected something quite different. I enjoyed the symbolism, the struggles, and the persistence of the characters despite the tragedies that seemed to flank them. Perhaps even because of the tragedies. But parts of the story seemed bogged down by a tendency toward “chronicling” the lives of the characters rather than showing them through their interactions and through dialogue.

I did care about what happened to them, but at times, I felt frustrated by the detached tone of the author. I would still recommend this book to those who enjoy family stories. My rating is 3.5 stars.


Margaret Reynolds is a NY housewife living the crazy, multi-tasking life of a young mother during the 1970s. Meeting the other mothers in the park, keeping track of the sandbox tots, and trying to remember what life was like before—or what life could be again—Margaret’s mind takes her on fantasy trips. Especially after discovering she is again pregnant.

While trying to sort out this snag in her life, at the same time that her mother is pressuring her to move the family to the suburbs, Margaret’s fantasies take her to Fidel Castro’s Cuba and other inexplicable places that seemingly stand in as a reminder that her own daily life is sort of boring.

I enjoyed this book (by Anne Richardson Roiphe) while I, too, was going through similar experiences. Not living in Manhattan, but feeling stifled by the lonely housewife existence.

When I recently read another book by this author, I was reminded of this movie and ordered it from Amazon. I enjoyed it in a slightly different way. The kind of enjoyment that comes from the vantage point of remembering a past existence and reflecting on it in a somewhat nostalgic fashion.

I am giving Up the Sandbox four stars, mostly for the memories evoked, as well as for Barbra Streisand’s great performance.